


One euro and thirty-seven cents

by Neptunium134



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Assassin Fernando, Assassination, Assassination of a minor character, Assassins, Based on a writing.propmt.s prompt, But I can't speak either so sorry if it's wrong, Drunk minor character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nando wants to adopt Stoff as usual, Some Dutch, Some Spanish, based on a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neptunium134/pseuds/Neptunium134
Summary: Fernando Alonso gaped at the sight in front of him.A young boy, no older than five, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, was holding out his hands, a small collection of gold and bronze coins in his palm."Please meneer," the boy spoke, holding up his hands. "Please kill my father."
Relationships: Fernando Alonso & Stoffel Vandoorne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	One euro and thirty-seven cents

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a writing.propmt.s prompt
> 
> Warnings for referenced child abuse and obviously a killing, but it's nothing gory. Obviously, feel free to skip it if you're uncomfortable. It's only a few lines, but you won't be missing anything.
> 
> Translations will be at the end. I haven't italicised all of them, I've had to look up the italicising etiquette and I've tried to follow the rules best I can.

Fernando Alonso gaped at the sight in front of him.

A young boy, no older than five, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, was holding out his hands, a small collection of gold and bronze coins in his palm.

The boy's face was covered in lacerations and cuts, a ring of ugly purple-black bruising around his left eye, a split lip and a gash on his hairline staining the once-yellowish hair a light orange. He seemed to have problems standing up, swaying on his feet like a drunkard, wincing every so often. Nevertheless, there was a determined glint in his eyes.

"Please _meneer_ ," the boy spoke, holding up his hands. "Please kill my father."

Nando blinked. Sure, he'd had children come in asking to kill their parents, but they were always adults. He'd never seen a _child_ ask for this.

Yet, the boy's appearance told him everything he needed to know about the father.

“I can’t take your money,” Nando started.

Immediately, the boy’s face fell. He held his hands up higher. “Please _meneer_ , it’s all I have!”

“I can’t take your money,” Nando repeated, “because I will do it for free. You will stay here and I will return when it is done. ¿ _Si_?”

The boy’s eyes widened and he nodded, lowering his hands.

“What is your name, chico?” Nando asked, pulling out a sword and starting to sharpen it on the whetstone in the corner of the room.

“Stoffel, _meneer_. Stoffel Vandoorne.” The boy- Stoffel- replied.

Stoffel. That wasn’t a Spanish name, Nando had never heard it.

“Have you lived in Spain long, Stoffel?” He asked, checking the sword’s sharpness.

Stoffel thought for a moment, head tilted to the left, sucking on his bottom lip. He held up four fingers. “ _Vier jaren_.”

Not entirely sure what the boy meant, Nando just nodded. He checked the number of bullets in his belt and made sure the barrel of his gun was clean before standing up and pulling out his mobile phone.

“Hola, Carlos. Necesito información sobre alguien.” He spoke, handing Stoffel something he hoped would keep the child entertained long enough for him to make the call.

The assassin left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“¿Qué sabes de Stoffel Vandoorne?”

  
  


Nando entered the room, provided with new info about Stoffel’s father.

He looked over at the young boy, who lay on the floor, fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow. His chest rose and stuttered, his face twisted in pain with each inhale.

Fernando growled. He’d known the boy for what, an hour - _at most_ \- yet he felt protective over Stoffel and wanted to care for the boy.

He gently scooped the child into his arms, wincing when Stoffel let out a pain-filled whine as he was shifted. Nando hushed him and carried Stoffel into his bedroom, laying the child on his bed and pulling the covers over him. He’d prefer to check Stoffel’s injuries before tucking the boy in, but he didn’t want to wake Stoffel and he needed Stoff to tell him where it hurt to give him the best treatment.

Besides, he’d much rather Stoffel be asleep when Nando carried out his job.

  
  


The assassin closed the door of his base, making sure he had everything he needed before locking the door and clambering onto the rooftops to head towards where Carlos said Patrick Vandoorne lived.

  
  


Nando settled on the rooftop on the building opposite the small house Stoffel called home. He set up his rifle, aiming it at Patrick’s bedroom window.

The man in question stumbled into the room, screeching at the top of his lungs for his son, growing more and more agitated when Stoffel didn’t appear.

Patrick _screamed_ and threw a beer bottle at the wall. “WAAR IS DAT NUTTELOSS STUK STRONT?” He thundered around the room. "Hij kan niet ver zijn gegaan. Nutteloze klootzak is zo'n zwakkeling." He muttered darkly, grabbing another beer bottle and popping off the cap, chugging the whole bottle in one go and dropping it on the ground.

Nando flinched, returning his eye to the eyepiece and lining up his shot.

“Un poco a la izquierda…” He mumbled, as Patrick moved in the direction he wanted.

The assassin pulled the trigger, the sound of the gunshot ringing out throughout the neighbourhood.

Patrick Vandoorne fell like a sack of potatoes and Nando knew his job was done. A nice, clean shot to the back of the head, blowing out the medulla oblongata, rendering Patrick brain dead in a matter of nanoseconds and clinically dead in seconds.

Fernando picked up his rifle, slinging it across his back and jumping down from the roof, slipping into an alleyway and dismantling the gun into its inconspicuous components.

He exited the alley and started walking down the street, plugging his earphones into this phone to further detect suspicion.

  
  


The assassin unlocked his door and stepped into the house that contained his base.

He shrugged off his jacket and emptied his pockets of the gun, placing them back in their box. He peeled off his blacksuit and threw on some tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt.

Stoffel was still asleep when he looked into the room. Fernando smiled to himself and closed the door.

He picked up the jumper Stoffel had been wearing and took out the money Stoffel offered him, counting the small number of coins in his palm.

_One euro and thirty-seven cents._

The Spaniard laughed to himself, putting the coins back in the jumper pocket, mindful of the large hole in the fabric.

Tomorrow, he’d take Stoffel shopping and use that one euro and thirty-seven cents for something much nicer than hiring an assassin.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this is a thing now.
> 
> Fun fact; I started this at half one in the morning using John Barnaby and Jamie Winter from Midsomer Murders, then changed my mind and made it Nando and Stoff. Kinda fits better in my opinion.
> 
> EDIT: I got a few corrections for the Dutch. I apologise for it, and I hope the corrections are okay. I got two suggestions for the same quote and decided to incorporate both of them, so hopefully they're okay!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> (Dutch)  
> meneer = sir  
> Vier jaren = four years  
> WAAR IS DAT NUTTELOSS STUK STRONT? = WHERE IS THAT USELESS PIECE OF SHIT?  
> Hij kan niet ver zijn gegaan. Nutteloze klootzak is zo'n zwakkeling = He can't have gone far. Piece of shit's such a weakling
> 
> (Spanish)  
> ¿Si? = yes  
> chico = boy/ child/ kid  
> Hola, Carlos. Necesito información sobre alguien = Hi Carlos. I need information about someone  
> ¿Qué sabes de Stoffel Vandoorne? = What do you know about Stoffel Vandoorne?  
> Un poco a la izquierda... = A little to the left...


End file.
